


It's Only Time

by MCRmyGeneral



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: Set two years after the finale, where Justin is a successful artist in New York and Brian is still a club boy and still very much set in his ways. But something is different now...





	It's Only Time

Sweat pooled between Brian’s shoulder blades, dripping sinuously down his spine. He bit into his bottom lip and groaned, sounds melding with the moaning coming from his trick of the night. He didn’t know the guy’s name. He forgot to ask, or he didn’t care. Or he knew that was against the rules. Pick one.

“Fuck, faster,” The guy demanded, and though Brian picked up his pace, flicking his hips more fervently, his dick softened just a bit at this guy’s bossy bottoming. A needy bottom wasn’t attractive in the slightest. The only bottom Brian gladly took orders from was that blonde twink that wasn’t just a blonde twink to him anymore.

Heat pooled in Brian’s stomach as he hung on the edge of his orgasm. Three more thrusts had a deep groan slipping from his lips and had him spilling himself into Random Trick’s ass, as the guy came as well, shooting onto Brian’s lavishly and unnecessarily expensive sheets. Brian rolled his eyes and sighed. Now he had to change his sheets before he went to bed. Awesome.

He pulled out of this nameless Babylon groupie and stood, sliding off his condom and dropping it into the trash can beside his bed.

The guy he’d been fucking laid on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and laughing. “That was amazing. I’ve heard great things about you, but my _god_.”

Brian didn’t even let himself smile. He already knew he was a great lay; he wouldn’t be this popular if he wasn’t.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand that read 11:40.

“Perfect timing!” He said with a smile, the first genuine smile since he’d left for the club earlier that night.

The guy rolled onto his side and watched as Brian dug through his dresser for a pair of underwear and a plain white t-shirt. “Perfect timing for what?”

“You gotta go,” Brian said curtly.

“What?” He asked with a laugh. “Why? Got a hot date?”

“Something like that.”

“Wait, _what_? He asked, looking way more sad than he should, considering the circumstances. It’s not like they had been going steady; he knew this was just a fuck. Brian Kinney didn’t _do_ relationships.

Brain decided not to spare the guy’s feelings. He honestly couldn’t care less if he ended up hating him. He spoke slowly, enunciating and talking with his hands. “You,” He said, pointing to the guy still in his bed, “Need to leave,” He walked his fingers along his palm, “ _Now_ ,” He finished, pointing toward the door, not caring about the crestfallen look on Random Trick’s face.

“Fuck you,” the guy spat, getting to his feet and gathering his clothes.

“You just did,” Brian quipped, turning his back and walking to the shower.

“Asshole!”

Brian just smirked as he turned on the water and stepped under the spray, letting the searing water wash away the touch of the random he’d fucked. He couldn’t face his boy with someone else’s fingerprints on his skin. Scratch that, he _wouldn’t_. Not that Brian was whipped or anything; it was just about respect.

He scrubbed the glitter from his scalp and watched as the sparkles swirled down the drain, like he was washing away a mask, if only for an hour or so.

He rinsed the shampoo and soap from his hair and body, stepping out of the shower and drying himself quickly. He stopped for just a second after tying a towel around his waist, to look at his outline in the fogged mirror. A warmth settled into the room, that wasn’t due to the steam. He could almost hear someone else in the room breathing, water dripping from soft blonde hair to the floor, something that would under any other circumstances annoy Brian to the ends of the earth. But somehow, water on the floor didn’t bother him if it was a certain someone’s fault. That certain someone got away with an awful lot in this loft. Like dripping melted ice cream onto the leather chair, or leaving pencil shavings on the coffee table, or worst of all, smudging charcoal deep into the fibers of his _very_ expensive, very Italian, pure-white shag rug. But when Brian had seen the mark, he just smiled, kissed his boy and then proceeded to fuck his brains out right on top of it. Ah, the good old days.

Brian found himself smiling as he dressed, pulling on his dark grey jeans and a plain white v-neck t-shirt. He personally liked his button-ups, but whenever he lounged around in a t-shirt and jeans, his boy always made it a point to mention how utterly delicious and absolutely fuckable he looked. He glanced at the clock. 11:55. Just enough time to change his sheets. No sooner did he wrestle his final pillow into its case than his computer chimed.

He couldn’t stop the cheeky smile that curled his lips as he grabbed a beer and sat down at his desk, smoothing out his shirt (Did he really just do that? When had he become a lesbian?) and running his hand through his still-damp hair.

_SunshineTaylor requesting video chat with PrezAndCEO _.__

__A new window popped up, and suddenly Brian’s heart was fluttering inside his cage of a chest, and his muscles all instantly relaxed. Like a shining sun, a face filled the screen, and Brian didn’t even bother trying not to grin back when he saw Justin’s smile._ _

__“Hey,” Justin said, and Brian’s smile got even wider._ _

__“Hey, Sonny Boy.”_ _

__Justin giggled, and Brian’s smile faltered for just a second._ _

__“You look tired,” He noted, and surprisingly, Justin didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded._ _

__“Yeah, I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. I have another show next week,” He explained, almost shyly._ _

__Brian scoffed. “Where’s my invitation?” He teased, and Justin smirked._ _

__“Check your mail.”_ _

__Brian furrowed his brow, but stood and walked over to the kitchen, shuffling through the stack of letters until he found a thick, glossy flier for the New York Youth Gala Showing featuring work by Justin Taylor and Emma Dillion. Attached were two VIP tickets._ _

__“Damn,” He swore under his breath, walking back over to his desk and sitting back down. He said nothing, and Justin smiled smugly._ _

__“Well?” He asked, smirking._ _

__“I’m getting good at this,” Brian changed the subject, looking back and forth from the flier to the screen. “I can tell which ones are yours,” He said, looking carefully at the four paintings on the paper._ _

__Justin cocked an eyebrow. “Brian Kinney, art aficionado? Who’d have ever thought?”_ _

__Brian rolled his eyes. “I’m not an aficionado. I just have my favorites,” He said thoughtfully, and was rewarded with a bright scarlet blush spreading quickly over Justin’s cheeks. “Though I have to politely decline your offer, since I’ll be in Miami with a client that week,” He said, and Justin smirked, knowing full well that ‘client’ was this year’s White Party, “But if you don’t mind, I’ll keep it. I’ll file it away with all your other gala invitations.”_ _

__“You keep them?”_ _

__Brian shrugged, blushing. “I have a feeling they might be worth a lot of money one day.”_ _

__The sun shone then, Justin smiling just about as brightly as Brian had ever seen him. Of course, he smiled back._ _

__“So… how are you?” Justin asked carefully when he composed himself._ _

__Brian shrugged. “Could be better. Could definitely be worse. Wish we could see each other more often.”_ _

__“I know, I’m sorry,” Justin said sadly, and guilt throbbed in Brian’s chest._ _

__“It’s not your fault,” He insisted._ _

__“No, it is. I’ve barely been out of the studio for months. My agent is constantly hounding me for another piece, and something brighter and something more thoughtful!” He mocked his frigid bitch of an agent, and Brian laughed. “She literally doesn’t give a shit about my personal life.”_ _

__“That’s what agents do. They’re there to keep you on track.”_ _

__“Well, she’s been riding my ass nonstop.”_ _

__“Tell her that’s _my_ job.”_ _

__“Oh, trust me, she knows,” Justin smirked, and Brian cocked an eyebrow curiously. “Oh, I haven’t shown you my latest series?”_ _

__Without an answer, he picked up the computer and walked over to the living room, where all his works were stored, waiting to finish drying._ _

__“I call the collection Fire and Ice,” Justin explained, turning the laptop and showing Brian each piece as he described them. “It’s all about us, The fires,” He said, turning toward a dozen canvases emblazoned with reds and golds and pinks, “Are all our good times. I did a lot of painting with a hard-on,” Justin admitted, and though Brian couldn’t see him, he knew he was blushing again, “Because mostly the ideas would strike me late at night, mid-jerk off, when I was thinking about your hands on my chest and your fingertips digging into my hips and your lips sliding over my skin.”_ _

__Now Brian was the one blushing. Blushing and hardening pretty rapidly in his Levi’s. He didn’t know how he’d managed to do it, but somehow the art made him feel the arousal Justin had felt when he was painting, just by looking at them_ _

__“And the ices?” He asked._ _

__Justin sighed and turned to the other side of the room, where three large paintings all in blues and greens and whites sat. Though Brian knew as much about art as his did about pussy, it didn’t take a genius to see the pain and the sadness in the brush strokes. He also noticed-_ _

__“There’s less of them,” He pointed out, “But they’re bigger.”_ _

__Justin turned the computer back toward himself, a look of impressed awe on his shining face. “Yeah. Because when I think about us, I remember a _lot_ of mind-blowing sex and a lot of happiness. The sad parts were fewer, but man, did they hurt,” He ended sadly. Brian frowned. He was just about to say something when Justin turned the computer around again. “And _this_ ,” He said, pointing to a canvas very clearly showing two bodies tangled together, “Is the centerpiece of the whole collection.”_ _

__Brian laughed. This was by far his favorite. It was red and gold and green and blue and purple and pink and though it only showed the bodies from thigh to chest, focusing mostly on where a full, round ass was nestled against sharp hips, Brian knew those bodies, knew the harder one on top was himself, and the leaner one beneath it was his Sunshine. Photograph or painting, he'd recognize that tight ass anywhere._ _

__“This may be your best work ever,” He said sincerely._ _

__Justin turned the laptop back toward himself, sinking down to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Yeah, I think it’s one of my favorites, too. It took so much arguing to get the Gala to allow it in the show,” He said with a laugh. “I’m just sad I’ll have to part with it. I wish I could keep it,” He frowned, and Brian’s chest hurt seeing those lips turn down._ _

__“I’ll give you ten thousand for it.”_ _

__Justin’s head shot up. “What?”_ _

__“Ten thousand,” Brian repeated, fishing his checkbook out from the desk drawer._ _

__Justin shook his head. “That’s _way_ too much! I’m lucky if my pieces go for three or four grand!”_ _

__“Too late!” Brian smirked, holding up the completed check to the webcam. When he put it down, Justin was glaring at him._ _

__“Be pissy all you want, Sunshine. But now you can keep it and see it all the time. And besides, I told you you were my favorite artist. I think ten grand for a Picasso or a Dali is a steal, don’t you?”_ _

__Justin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m hardly a- What?”_ _

__Brian sighed, figuring beating around the bush was useless here. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”_ _

__Justin nodded._ _

__“Two years is long enough. I think we’ve both matured enough to make it work this time.”_ _

__Justin shook his head. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”_ _

__Brian frowned and dug through a stack of papers on his desk, until he found the deed to his new house. “Does this convince you that I mean it?”_ _

__Justin read the papers, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Albany?”_ _

__“Close to your studio, a good location for another Kinnetik branch, and less than an 8-hour drive home, should we ever get to urge to visit the diner,” Brian explained. “It just needs one more signature. I figure you can sign it when you visit next month.”_ _

__“Me?”_ _

__“No, I’m bringing Emmett.”_ _

__Justin scowled._ _

__“Of course, you. Isn’t the lease on your apartment up in a few months?”_ _

__Justin gasped softly. “You’re serious.”_ _

__“Have been for two years, now. Think we can really do it this time?”_ _

__Justin’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Absolutely. It’s hell without you, Brian. I feel like I’m going crazy.”_ _

__“I know the feeling.”_ _

__“God, I miss you so much,” Justin breathed, his bottom lip quivering._ _

__“Hey, now, stop that. Listen to me. Are you listening?”_ _

__Justin rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening.”_ _

__“We’ve made it through so much. We can last another month or so.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Justin whispered, nodding softly. He sighed. “I should go to bed.”_ _

__“I agree. Get some rest. I’ll see you real soon.”_ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__Brian smiled softly. “I love you, too.”_ _

__Justin flashed his teeth once more before blowing a kiss, and then the screen went black._ _

__Brian leaned back in his chair and sighed._ _

__The first few moments after their video chats ended were always the worst. But something was different this time._ _

__Brian frowned when he saw the plane ticket sitting on his desk. Then he smiled and hopped out of his seat, grabbing his cell and dialing Cynthia._ _

__“Hmm,” She answered groggily, still half-asleep, “Brian? You okay?”_ _

__“I need you to exchange my ticket to Miami.”_ _

__“For?”_ _

__“New York.”_ _

__“Making an appearance at Justin’s show?” She asked, and Brian heard the smile in her voice._ _

__“How do you know?”_ _

__“I get the fliers, too.”_ _

__Brian smirked. “Yeah.”_ _

__“I'll get it done first thing in the morning. Can I go back to bed?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Brian chuckled. “Good night.”_ _

__Cynthia didn't answer; she just hung up._ _

__Brian smirked at himself in silent satisfaction. Justin would have a heart attack when he walked into the building, wielding a dozen roses and the lease to their new house for him to sign in front of everyone. He would show his boy that he wasn't the same scared queer he was when they'd met, or even when they'd parted last. He'd prove that he wasn't worried that being romantic would make him less of a man. Not anymore. He'd knock Justin's socks off. Not to mention…_ _

__He walked back to his desk, opening the drawer and running his fingertips along the small box that had been gathering dust for two years. He never returned them, because he knew he'd never need to. He grabbed the ticket and the ring box and tucked them both securely in his briefcase as he walked back to his bedroom. The sheets were soft and almost warm, as if they had been sitting in the sunshine. Brian hugged a spare pillow, smiling as he fell asleep._ _

__He missed his boy, but he wouldn’t be aching without him for much longer._ _

__The chances taken on love were always the most rewarding._ _


End file.
